


I Just Want You for My Own

by servecobwebheadaches



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: A Festive Time, BDSM, Bondage, Collaring/Leashing, Established Relationship, M/M, PWP, Paddling, Praise Kink, Rimming, Subspace, dom!Ryan, sub!Brendon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 16:26:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8998246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servecobwebheadaches/pseuds/servecobwebheadaches
Summary: And it's on days like these that Brendon's not only his boyfriend, but he's also his pretty, helpless submissive, who Ryan is more than happy to dominate.





	

**Author's Note:**

> All I wanted for Christmas was ryden smut, and if you felt the same, then your wish has been granted with this festive BDSM.

There are certain, slight changes to Brendon's demeanor on days like this one—changes that only Ryan notices. Ryan wakes before him, getting ready for the day as he usually would, wearing black pants and a gray t-shirt, which Brendon would nag at him about, because, _Ryan, it's Christmas Eve_. It doesn't make much of a difference, whether or not he's wearing bright-red-snowflake-peppermint-sugar plum fairy-spirited attire, as Brendon will be the only one who sees them. The holiday season is perfectly reserved and private for them this year, which is a beautiful, beautiful thing, Ryan thinks.

  
And, so, he spends his morning sitting in the sunlight, drinking unflavored coffee—not any of that candycane or gingerbread sweetener Brendon dumps straight into a mug through the whole month of December—while watching the decorations on the Christmas tree sparkle. Brendon doesn't join him, as the sun shines high in the sky, which isn't the unusual part, not at all. Ryan knows he's awake; as he finishes his coffee, he sweeps back into the bedroom to say good morning.

  
This is where Ryan notices a shift.

  
Brendon's standing in the doorway of their closet, quiet and still, completely naked. Ryan has to admit that he's gotten used to the sight, but the lack of movement—that's something strange.

  
“Hey, B,” Ryan says.

  
Brendon turns around, plush lips parted, and melty chocolate eyes meeting Ryan's, having the same effect on his heart. “Hi,” Brendon replies.

  
Ryan can't help it; he's drawn to him. Brendon faces back to the selection of clothes, and Ryan steps closer, running his fingers through the dark, silky strands of Brendon's hair.

  
“What're you looking for?” He asks Brendon.

  
“I . . . What should I wear?” Brendon says in return, gaze locking with Ryan's.

  
That's when he understands. It's a mood, of sorts, that Brendon falls into some days, where he feels the need to be more docile. Brendon's talked about it with him before, how he needs small decisions made for him, how he needs to be taken care of, how he needs to submit. Ryan knows exactly how to handle it, the ways to treat Brendon—and he quite likes it, too. They both do. And it's on days like these that Brendon's not only his boyfriend, but he's also his pretty, helpless submissive, who Ryan is more than happy to dominate.

  
Ryan rests his hand on Brendon's bare shoulder blade, knowing Brendon wants the contact, yet won't initiate it himself. That's just another oddity of days like this.

  
Ryan's not just going to jump straight into taking control, needing time himself to slip into the mood, but he does have an idea of what he would like to see Brendon wear for the day. He rubs at Brendon's shoulder and back, skin cold from being naked so long, before taking a sweater of his own off a hanger and choosing a pair of Brendon's black jeans. He picks out Brendon's regular underwear, although he eyes the lacy panties Brendon has first.

  
“Is this okay?” He questions Brendon, holding up the clothes. He knows Brendon wouldn't disagree, but he sees it necessary to ask, just in case.

  
Brendon nods. “Sweet. Thank you.”

  
“Of course.” Ryan kisses Brendon's temple as he hands him the clothes, to which Brendon turns around to get dressed, by himself. As he walks away, Ryan is still captivated with watching the sway of his hips, the perfect curve of his ass. Ryan's tempted—he almost always is—to take Brendon right then.

  
He regrets denying him the night before, when Brendon had been all too eager to crawl in his lap and fuck himself on Ryan's dick. Ryan said no, preferring to curl up with a book and rest his head on Brendon's shoulder instead. It's part of the reason why Brendon's so submissive already today, and Ryan takes responsibility. He knows Brendon would slip under easily for him. All it would take would be a few well-chosen words and touches, and he could get Brendon deep into subspace.

  
After years of being with Brendon, he knows how to be in a perfect scene with him, and Brendon trusts him completely. It doesn't have to be anything elaborate—all Ryan would have to do would be to pin him down by his wrists and fuck him, and Brendon would be so gone. He wants Brendon like that today, in the moment, but he lets the boy put on his clothes and continue on normally.

  
Brendon's going last minute Christmas shopping today, and Ryan almost forgot. While Brendon finishes getting ready, Ryan makes him coffee, the way he knows Brendon likes it. It's warm and too sugary for Ryan to even bear the scent, with some cinnamon cookie creamer in it and extra sweetener.

  
Brendon looks sleepy and downright adorable when he takes the coffee. Ryan's sweater is too big on him, since Ryan is a couple inches taller than him, and it drapes down to his mid-thigh. It's beige and fluffy, making Brendon look smaller. His jeans are tight, accentuating the shape of his legs, all the way down to the boots that lace up his ankles. He's perfect, and Ryan doesn't refrain from kissing him.

  
Ryan sits with Brendon for a few minutes, as Brendon drinks his coffee and hums to himself. His eyes brighten, and he tells Ryan, “Traffic is gonna be awful today.”

  
“You're right.”

  
“I don't want to leave you here all day.” Brendon pouts, not purposefully directed at Ryan.

  
“Yeah?”

  
“Will you please come with me?” Brendon requests, his voice uncharacteristically small. “Unless you're too busy today, I won't pull you away, but, I don't want to be alone . . .” He rambles, slightly, but it brings a smile to Ryan's face.

  
“I know,” Ryan answers, “I'll stay with you.” Ryan didn't want to crowd Brendon, which is why he hadn't asked to accompany him earlier. Unless Brendon was having a day like he is now, he likes to be alone sometimes. He's previously planned for it, but Ryan knows he would rather have a presence with him, instead of being by himself. Brendon would feel lost and lonely in a large crowd of people without Ryan to steady him on these days.

  
“Thank you,” Brendon says again.

  
They leave, and Ryan drives, holding Brendon's hand the whole way. Brendon closes his eyes whenever Ryan thumbs over the back of his hand, and he shudders whenever Ryan brushes over his wrist. He's sensitive, and Ryan thinks that's interesting, and fun.

  
Snow starts falling at almost the exact second they stop in the full parking lot of the mall. Before getting out of the car, Ryan looks at Brendon. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” He asks, making sure Brendon doesn’t want to turn around and go home instead.

  
Brendon nods. “I'm good, I'm good, yeah,” he says.

  
“Okay.”

  
The snow looks beautiful in Brendon's hair; on his eyelashes. Ryan wraps an arm around his waist, the main intent to give them both leverage when walking on icy sidewalks, but Brendon nestles closer to him. They walk inside, and Ryan keeps him there, neither of them minding.

  
Brendon grows even more spacey as they begin shopping, probably a bit overwhelmed with everything around him. Ryan keeps rubbing his back, keeping him present enough. Naturally, Ryan carries their bags, full of miscellaneous gifts for friends.

  
Typically, Brendon's great at getting shopping done in an impossibly small amount of time, but today, Ryan's leading. They have everything that they really need, but Ryan keeps wandering, just because he's curious—and, between him and Brendon, he definitely enjoys shopping more.

  
At every storefront, Ryan sees the models on the advertisements, and he shakes his head. “You could be a model, B. You're more beautiful than anyone.”

  
Brendon blushes at the praise, but also takes it as a cue to speak more. He's aiming for more of that from Ryan, no matter what he has to do. Ryan knows it before it happens.

  
“I'll model for you anytime,” Brendon says.

  
“I look forward to that, my love,” Ryan replies.

  
They pass by a Victoria’s Secret, and Brendon blinks pretty at him. Ryan glances between Brendon's face, and the lingerie behind him. He realizes what Brendon's doing—he's pushing him in the direction of being more dominant. “Still model material?” Brendon asks, watching Ryan eye him.

  
“The most stunning,” Ryan agrees.

  
“You did buy me things from here for Christmas, didn't you? Or do I need to go try some things on for you?” Brendon insinuates.

  
He's like a seductress that could make the most powerful of men crumble, but Ryan knows he's as fragile and pliant as the untouched surface of the snow outside.

  
The blatant teasing is unacceptable, but Ryan has to be careful with what he says. He can't get too sultry, or else he’ll put Brendon under.

  
“You're not trying lingerie on with other people around,” Ryan states. “That's only for me to see, isn't it?”

  
“Only for you,” Brendon repeats.

  
“Slut,” Ryan breathes into his ear. He pets his hair once, then guides him away from the store.

  
In some other store, by the register, there are free candy canes. They're the large ones, long and thin, and Brendon takes one while they're waiting in line. Ryan doesn't pay much attention to it, until they're back out in the general area of the mall. Brendon's staring at him, which draws Ryan's focus fully to him, and he finds Brendon sucking on the candy cane, eyes wide and blinks exaggerated. He pulls it out and slowly licks his lips, which are bright red from the peppermint.

  
Ryan's had enough, and slips his hand from the small of Brendon's back to underneath the oversized sweater he wears. He discreetly squeezes Brendon's ass, making it look like he's only scratching the boy’s back. Brendon takes a sharp inhale, and immediately pushes the candy cane farther into his mouth.

  
He doesn't take the ass squeeze as a warning, instead as incentive to tease Ryan more. His cheeks hollow around the candy cane as he deliberately sucks on it, and he works his jaw just enough for Ryan to notice. The whole time, he gives Ryan this faux-innocent look, as if he isn't rilling Ryan up.

  
Ryan observes, allowing Brendon to put on a little show for a few moments, until he curls his fingers around Brendon's back belt loop. They'd been walking, but this put an abrupt halt to Brendon's movements.

  
Ryan gets his lips close to Brendon's ear, and says, “I want to take you home.”

  
“Okay,” Brendon says.

  
Ryan keeps his fingers hooked in Brendon's belt loops all the way out to the car, but Brendon continues to be horribly suggestive with his candy cane, so they're equally as guilty. It's dark outside, now, between the clouds that dump snow on them, and the hour of day. The streetlights are orange and glow warm with the powdery snow falling in thick layers, and something about it makes Brendon even more beautiful. Something stirs inside Ryan, because, _why did he have to be so pretty?_

  
Brendon finishes the stick of peppermint before they sit in the car, and Ryan is thankful, since he can just lean over and kiss Brendon. The kiss is deep and full of lust, on both ends. Ryan sucks on Brendon's billowy bottom lip, hands in Brendon's hair, and he shifts to push his tongue in his mouth, needing more. Brendon opens up and doesn't fight it in the slightest, simply letting Ryan do what he wants, and that's incredibly hot for Ryan. They don't pull away from this kiss, Ryan appreciating everything about Brendon's lips, how he tasted of peppermint, snow, and sugar.

  
Ryan could get a bit lost in kissing Brendon, and he is, until Brendon makes a slight noise. Eyes fluttering open, Ryan pulls away, and feels his cock twitch at the sight of Brendon. Brendon's lips are even more swollen and reddened, and he's panting. His cheeks are brightly flushed, pink and warm. On top of that, his eyes have glazed over. They're still wide and aware, and looking at Ryan pleadingly. Ryan can hardly handle it.

  
“Please,” Brendon breathes, and Ryan puts the keys in the ignition.

  
“I really need to get you home,” Ryan says, and Brendon makes another wordless noise.

  
Ryan uses up all of his willpower on the drive home to keep his hands off Brendon, but by the time they get home that Christmas Eve night, Ryan has a scene planned for them. Ryan all but carries Brendon through the front door from out in the cold, wanting him as close as possible for a few moments.

  
In their doorway, Ryan begins making out with him again, and he holds him by the waist to push him back against the front door. Brendon squirms some, trying to either grind on Ryan or wrap his legs around his waist.

  
Ryan pulls back, and slips his hands underneath Brendon's sweater once more, feeling him up, holding his ass. “Do you wanna be my good boy, baby doll?” Ryan says, his voice low and rough.

  
Brendon stills and nods.

  
“Good, you're so good for me.” At this point, Ryan's not holding back from making Brendon slip under, and that's exactly what's happening. “I want you to go put on some music, and wait for me on the couch. Can you do that for me?”

  
“I'll be good,” Brendon whispers.

  
“I know you will.” Ryan lets go of Brendon, and he walks off. Ryan pats his ass twice while he goes, not really wanting to part ways with him for a second. But he has things to do before he can really have fun with Brendon, and reward him for being such a good, submissive boy all day.

  
The bedroom is towards the front of the house, and Ryan flicks on a bright overhead light as soon as he walks in.

  
It's not a place in which one would expect a scene to happen, the room looking domestic and lived-in. The bed is unmade, a large king-sized, and the nightstands on both sides are cluttered. Brendon has insisted upon stringing fairy Christmas lights around the headboards for the season, and, although there's a fireplace in the room, Brendon rarely wants it on.

  
Ryan's mind gravitates back to the predicament he's put his boy in, sitting alone and in suspense, and he's motivated to get his own prep done.

  
He strips the bed halfway, leaving only the pillows and soft sheets, nothing else. There's no need for there to be anything rough underneath Brendon's knees in a few moments. Ryan rushes himself, throwing open the closet door, bending over his pile of scarves—his side of the closet is a lot less organized than Brendon's. Hidden well, he finds three small boxes, covered in blue and white wrapping paper, ribbons, and bows. For Brendon.

  
They're all placed on the foot of the bed. Taking a last minute glance around the room, Ryan looks for things to perfect the setting—he turns on the fairy lights, and shuts everything else off. It looks serene, and eerily peaceful for what they're about to do.

  
Brendon's going to be in for a surprise, but it'll put him more in awe than anything.

  
Ryan paces through the dimly lit house, subtly filled with the voice of Frank Sinatra: “. . . _have yourself a merry little Christmas . ._.” Brendon's exactly where Ryan told him to be, curled up on the couch. The fireplace in the living room is the source of light, shimmering over Brendon's features. As Ryan steps closer, Brendon's eyes follow him, chocolate brown and wide, and Ryan could swear his heartbeat gets louder.

  
The boy appears to be swimming in the sweater he wears, sleeves hiding his hands, excessive fabric hanging off his frame and concealing his figure. He's barefoot with his jeans clinging to his legs in all the right places. As adorable and innocent as he looks, Ryan wants nothing more than to get him naked, get his hands on some of that skin.

  
Brendon doesn't speak while Ryan approaches him, which is how Ryan knows he's partially gone under; slipped into another state of consciousness that could soon turn to ecstasy. But it is a fragile state, and Ryan has to be careful with him.

  
In front of where Brendon sits, Ryan slowly drops to his knees. He slides his hands up Brendon's thighs—Brendon watching him the whole time—and catches Brendon's fingertips between his own.

  
Still totally silent, Brendon's fingers are completely loose and limp inside Ryan's hold, showing just how pliant he is. Before doing anything else, Ryan says, “Tell me your safeword, lover.” If he doesn't reply, Ryan will know that Brendon's all the way under, too far gone to tell Ryan to stop. At that point, Ryan would know not to start anything with him, and only give him something that wouldn't ever require a safeword to begin with.

  
“Whiskey,” comes Brendon's voice, quiet but remaining strong.

  
“Good boy,” Ryan replies, running a hand through Brendon's hair.

  
The wide-eyed blinks that Ryan receives in turn makes him smirk darkly, and he can not wait to pull Brendon back to bed with him.

  
“You're a good boy, B. Such a good boy.” Ryan presses his lips to Brendon's, kissing him slow. Pulls him to his feet. Brendon has gone liquid for him. “And you know what? Good boys get their Christmas presents early.” Ryan runs his hands down Brendon's chest, resting them on Brendon's hips. He leans in close to whisper in Brendon's ear, “Do you want your presents, baby boy? You deserve it, being so _perfect_ for me all year.”

  
Ryan begins leading him back to the bedroom, when Brendon whispers back, “What if I've been a naughty boy? What if I deserve to be punished?”

  
He halts, and squeezes Brendon's hip, just to hear Brendon's breathing quicken. “You deserve exactly what I give you, nothing more and nothing less. Right?”

  
Brendon doesn't hesitate to nod, and Ryan's pleased with that.

  
The sternness leaves Ryan, and he's already beginning to toy with the bottom of Brendon's sweater by the time they reach the bedroom. On the other side of the doorway, Brendon stops, taking in the way the room looks.

  
Taking it up a notch, Ryan places his hand over the back of Brendon's neck. He steers him to the bed, stopping at the edge. Ryan lets go of Brendon's neck, and the boy tentatively looks up at him, awaiting a command. Ryan's all too happy to give him one, deliberately saying, “If you get naked for me, maybe I'll give you a reward.”

  
His tone is teasing, yet Brendon does exactly as he says, pulling the sweater over his head in seconds. He hands it to Ryan, who only drops it to the floor.

  
Brendon's fingers are shaking as he reaches for the button of his jeans, and Ryan's eyebrows furrow. “Hey, hey, it's all right,” Ryan whispers. He touches Brendon's hands, moving them to his sides, and undoes the button and zipper himself, pushes Brendon's jeans down. Brendon steps out of them, and Ryan cups his face. Between their bodies, Brendon's cock is half-hard, and Ryan smiles to himself. “Kneel,” he says.

  
Obediently, Brendon sinks to his knees, legs together, and rests his hands on his thighs. He's the most beautiful sight, and really, this was all Ryan could've asked for this Christmas.

  
“Say your safeword again,” Ryan requests, because Brendon's hands are shaking, and Ryan doesn't want to go through with this unless he's okay.

  
“Whiskey,” Brendon says, voice barely a whisper.

  
“Do you need it right now, B?”

  
Brendon shakes his head, lips pressed together again, and Ryan accepts it.

  
Ryan leans over Brendon to pick up the top, gift-wrapped box on the bed, and dips down slightly to hand it to him. Brendon simply holds it for a moment, not doing anything, and Ryan almost laughs at the act of submission.

  
“You can open it,” Ryan says.

  
Brendon's careful with it, which Ryan cherishes. He carefully takes off the stick-on golden bow, placing it on the floor near his clothes, and tries to quietly tear the wrapping paper off. Underneath, there's a plain black box, to which he removes the lid, folds open the tissue paper, and gasps at what's inside.

  
Front and center in Brendon's line of vision is a collar, one that will fit perfectly around his neck. Next to it is a leash; a chain folded to the side. Ryan had been right, as Brendon stares at it in awe.

  
“You've been so good for me this year, my little angel, do you like it?”

  
Brendon's lips part as he nods, purposefully exposing his neck more.

  
“Do you want me to put it on you?”

  
Brendon takes it like a demand, immediately handing the collar to Ryan, by itself. Ryan runs his fingers over the black leather and the red ribbon wrapped around it, finding the buckle to loosen it. Brendon leans towards him as Ryan places it around his neck, like a necklace, tight enough for there to be no slack, but not constrict Brendon's breathing.

  
On the side of Brendon's neck, on top of the collar, a red ribbon ties into an exaggerated bow, making the leather collar seasonally festive. Brendon truly is Ryan's Christmas present, and he tells Brendon as much. “You really belong to me now, don't you?” Ryan whispers.

  
He picks up the leash in the box, the chain feeling natural in his hands, and he hitches it into the collar. Brendon's head drops, and Ryan allows the cold metal to brush Brendon's cheek, in order to make him aware of it, and give him more stimulation.

  
“Yours,” Brendon finally answers, as Ryan straightens the leash; wraps it around his knuckles for a good grip.

  
“Mine,” Ryan says. He tugs on the leash, less of a jerk and more of a pull, and Brendon obediently looks up at him. Brendon's cheeks have gone back to a deep hue of pink, and his lips still appear red. His kneeling form, and his dick fully hard against his stomach—Ryan’s having a difficult time containing himself.

  
“I think my good boy should have another toy, hmm? What do you think?” Ryan asks. With his free hand, he brushes a long finger underneath Brendon's chin, and Brendon shudders at the contact. Brendon eventually nods, and Ryan takes the second box off the bed with Brendon's permission.

  
He opens it the same way as the first one, after setting the other box on the floor, and only looks up at Ryan when he sees the contents. There's a long coil of braided rope neatly folded inside, made of red and white. Ryan takes the box, and with a simple gesture from Ryan, Brendon's wrists are inviting to the knots Ryan ties around them with the rope.

  
His wrists are securely tied together in front of him. He pulls against the rope once, testing how tight the knots are. Instead of tensing up at the prospect of his hands and arms being useless to him, Brendon relaxes visibly. He knows Ryan will take care of him.

  
And so Ryan does.

  
He helps Brendon up, sits on the edge of the bed, and carefully pulls the restrained boy into his lap. “Such a pretty little boy,” Ryan says, and it's true. He traces his fingers down Brendon's waist, admiring him. Brendon lets out a shaky breath, squirming, adjusting himself on Ryan's thighs.

  
Ryan slides a hand down Brendon's chest, his stomach, and rests his fingertips on the head of Brendon's cock, hard and neglected. Brendon whimpers quietly. Smirking into the crook of Brendon's neck, Ryan wraps his hand around the base of Brendon's cock, and strokes him slowly. It doesn't take long for it to really work Brendon up, and he pants, his chest heaves. His head is thrown back on Ryan's shoulder. A moan escapes his throat, his hips suddenly bucking up into Ryan's hand.

  
At that, Ryan pulls away, not wanting him to come yet. He pushes Brendon's hips back down to still him on his thighs, to which Brendon huffs.

  
Ryan's well aware that Brendon's past the point of becoming non-verbal, but he can still sense Brendon's frustration, and it's just so disobedient for him to act that way. “Hush. Behave,” he whispers. Brendon cranes his head to nuzzle Ryan's neck, and he quickly forgives Brendon for something he wasn't even upset about.

  
With a hand pressed against Brendon's chest, keeping him balanced on his lap, Ryan lets go of the leash and reaches over for the third and final present. He opens it for him, allowing Brendon to simply watch. Inside the box is possibly one of Ryan's favorite things he's ever bought—a black paddle, short-handled and broad. One side is padded and malleable, easy to hit with. The other is hard and flat, smooth, painted wood, which would be harsher on the skin. There's a word engraved on both sides, in red, cursive letters: _Naughty_ on the flat side, and _Nice_ on the padded side.

  
Brendon examines the paddle for a few moments, then works to focus his eyes elsewhere, looking into Ryan's eyes again. He shifts, as if he thinks he should move, but isn't sure. Before Ryan positions Brendon, he wants to make sure the boy is still okay with everything that is going on. “Can you say your safeword for me, baby boy?” Ryan asks.

  
He gulps and bites his lips for a moment, before answering, in a voice barely audible, “Whiskey.”

  
“Do you feel like using it now?”

  
Brendon shakes his head no.

  
Ryan runs the paddle over Brendon's thighs, making him shiver. Although Ryan had tested it all on himself, he lightly taps Brendon's inner leg with the soft side of the paddle, just to see his reaction. The boy hardly reacts, and only adjusts himself slightly on Ryan's thighs. Ryan had a feeling Brendon would be wanting a scene on the more intense side.

  
“This isn't a punishment,” Ryan tells Brendon, “this is for how good you've been, baby love.” Brendon's eyes are darkly lidded, and he looks down at his cock. Ryan thinks it must be aching from how hard it is, and begins stroking him again for relief. “So perfect, all for me,” Ryan whispers. Brendon's jaw is slack, his eyes are closed. “All mine. This is for me to mark you up, show you how much you belong to me. I know you like the feeling of being my toy, don't you?” Ryan thumbs over the head of his cock, and Brendon groans in reply. “A slutty toy for me. Mine. Oh, baby boy, you're so helpless. You can't help that you need to be controlled. Do you just belong to me? Are you just going to be good and please me?” Brendon whines in reply, hips thrusting desperately into Ryan's fist. He let it happen this time, really wanting Brendon on the edge. “Do you want me to hurt you?” Ryan breathes. Brendon's entire body twists at those words, visibly showing how he’s trying to hold back from coming. “Fuck, you're so good. Hands and knees, pretty boy.”

  
Brendon needs Ryan’s help in order to obey, with his hands tied, and Ryan momentarily sets the paddle aside. He turns him over onto his front, getting him into the correct position, and the sight of his ass presented has Ryan's cock throbbing. Ryan glides a hand across Brendon's cheeks, pale and unmarked. His ass is raised, as the side of his face is pressed into the mattress along with his shoulders. Pinned beneath him are his arms, wrists tied. Realizing something is missing, Ryan quickly grabs at the leash again, pulling it taut and securing Brendon's place.

  
“Be good for me,” Ryan says, as if he would question Brendon's obedience and submission.

  
Ryan holds the paddle, and, after taking a deep breath, brings it down hard on Brendon's ass. It's only the soft side, but it does leave a red mark, and makes Brendon's breath hitch. Ryan pulls away, and Brendon pushes back.

  
Instead of continuing on like that, Ryan wants more of a response from Brendon, and flips the paddle over to the hard, merciless side. Ryan considers it for a moment, yet Brendon begins mewling at the lack of activity, little whines and snuffles falling from his lips.

  
At that, Ryan paddles him, emitting a loud _smack_ , and cutting off any impatient noises Brendon was making as he cries out. Ryan knows it was more from the shock than the pain, because he quickly quiets. To make things easier for himself, Ryan tugs on the leash and drags Brendon closer to him. Brendon chokes from the collar around his throat, gasping when Ryan stills him. “You like that, slut?” Ryan says, narrowing his eyes as Brendon practically purrs underneath him.

  
He hits Brendon again, and he groans, appearing sensitive and reactive now. “So pretty,” Ryan praises, and brings the paddle down once more.

  
Brendon doesn't count it out, as he would usually if he wasn't already so far gone. Ryan doesn't expect him to, and doesn't do it himself, either. He pays close attention to every hit, knowing that the paddling won’t last long with the state Brendon is in. As much as Brendon wants the pain, Ryan knows it's wrong to give him too much of it.

  
But Brendon is being so good, even as Ryan beats the word _Naughty_ into his flesh. He moans. He pants. His ass bounces upon every impact of the wood. It goes straight to Ryan's cock. Ryan only paddles him until his ass will bruise, until he knows the boy will feel it tomorrow, but doesn't go any further. He's done enough to send Brendon flying into ecstasy, and he doesn't want to bring him out of it.

  
Soon enough, Ryan's setting the paddle aside. Brendon's cheeks are a beautiful shade of red, tinges of purple sprouting up from under the skin in dots. Ryan feels a surge of pride—he did that to Brendon, and Brendon let him. Brendon is his.

  
For some comfort after inflicting all that pain on Brendon, Ryan rubs his back some, up by his neck and shoulders, down his sides, all the way to the dimples of his lower back, so perfect and inviting. “You're perfect, baby boy,” Ryan says. Brendon keens.

  
Between Brendon's legs, Ryan can make out that his poor cock is hard and neglected, and, yeah, Brendon definitely deserves some pleasure after that.

  
Gently, so as not to cause Brendon any bad pain, but to make him aware of the sensation, Ryan cups Brendon's bruising cheeks, his fingertips sinking into the skin. “You've been so good. It's time for another present, but don't worry—” Ryan says—“this one will feel better.”

  
Brendon nods, which quietly rattles the metallic leash that's fallen loosely to the sheets and off to the side. “Be my good boy and spread those gorgeous legs for me,” Ryan requests, and Brendon does as he's told.

  
Leaving his hands on Brendon's ass, Ryan dips down to suckle a hickey into the back of Brendon's thigh, just to claim him more. Brendon might never even see it, but Ryan would know it was there.

  
Ryan trails kisses back up Brendon's leg, to the curve of his ass, and spreads his cheeks carefully. “There's never been a prettier boy, has there?” Ryan muses, and laps once at Brendon's hole. Brendon lets out a whine. “No, you're the prettiest. And you're all mine.” The praise makes Brendon more sensitive, if possible, as Ryan really goes to work. He tongues over Brendon's tight entrance, and Brendon's getting off on just that alone. His breathing gets louder, and his hips wiggle back towards Ryan as Ryan sinks his tongue into him. Ryan loves having Brendon so under his control, loves the way Brendon needs this.

  
Still, he doesn’t want Brendon to come yet, but enjoys eating him out for a few moments more. The movements of his tongue would be a sharp contrast to the spanks of the paddle, both providing a different kind of pleasure to Brendon.

  
By the time Ryan pulls away, Brendon is a mess, moaning and sweating. Ryan enjoys it.

  
Multi-tasking, Ryan takes the leash and stands up, not pulling Brendon with him. He only wants Brendon to know he’s still there, and to keep his control over him.

  
Ryan can't wait any longer to fuck him, looking at Brendon's presented ass. “What a perfect little gift,” Ryan mutters. He undoes his belt, take his pants off, strokes his own cock a couple times. Lust being the main intent now, Ryan paces beside the bed, walking to Brendon's front. “My toy to be naughty with,” he whispers in Brendon's ear. He opens the nightstand drawer for the lube, making his way back between Brendon's legs.

  
He fingers Brendon first, wanting to give Brendon as much prep as possible. There is no more pain in the plan for the night. “My baby doll deserves only the best treats,” Ryan says. Brendon relaxes with the familiarity of Ryan's fingers inside him, and that's when Ryan knows he's ready to take his cock.

  
Ryan slowly presses into him, holding his hips the whole time. Brendon keeps releasing these little moans, and they're just too much for Ryan, as he begins rolling his hips into Brendon's. After one particularly loud moan, Ryan insinuates, “Does it feel good to belong to me?” Ryan catches a glimpse of Brendon's collar, and he groans, reaching up with one hand to pin Brendon down by the neck. Brendon's hips twitch at the act, and Ryan bucks into him harder. Ryan’s boy loves the degradation, and Ryan indulges it with opportunities like that.

  
“You're so fucking helpless,” Ryan says, through clenched teeth, and pushes Brendon down harder to thrust in and out of him. That's all it takes, and Brendon's coming untouched, come leaking all over the sheets beneath them, dripping into the rope that ties Brendon's wrists. “Did my pretty boy make a mess of himself?” Ryan growls, and Brendon's meek noise of reply has Ryan finishing inside him.

  
Ryan's grip instantly loosens on Brendon, and he takes a brief moment to breathe before pulling out. Brendon raises his head slightly, then drops it back onto the mattress resignedly. He can't move, not with his hands tied underneath him. Ryan makes the first motion to stoop beside the bed, and he unties the red and white rope. Unwilling to neatly recoil it and place it back in the box, he drops it to the floor with their clothes. It can all be taken care of in the morning. Brendon is his priority at the moment.

  
Freeing Brendon's wrists is kind of pointless, since he's too weak and shaky to do much of anything. Ryan will have to help him with everything for up to an hour. For Brendon's comfort, Ryan takes Brendon by his waist and thighs, eases him to lay on his stomach. His ass is so bruised in comparison to his pale skin, Ryan knows it must be hurting him. “I'm gonna take care of your bruises, okay, B?” Ryan asks. Brendon turns his head to look at Ryan, and blink his affirmation of the action. Ryan smiles at him; the redness of his face, his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, his wetted lips. He leans down to quickly kiss the corner of Brendon's mouth, and Brendon's lips twitch up.

  
Ryan takes some lotion out of the nightstand, rubs it over his own palms first. Upon coming into contact with Brendon's skin, the boy jumps away from it a bit. “Sh, sh, I know it's cold, let me . . .” Ryan says, and Brendon accepts it as Ryan smooths it further into his cheeks. A few moments later, Ryan inquires, “Feel any better?”

  
“Mm,” Brendon hums, and Ryan takes that as a yes.

  
“Perfect.” Ryan walks up closer to Brendon's face, and asks, “Do you want to get cleaned up now, lover?”

  
Brendon provides him with slow blinks over glazed eyes, and Ryan chuckles. Of course Brendon doesn't want to decide at the moment. Keeping in mind that Brendon is far too out of it to walk on his own, Ryan doesn't want to run them a bath. Brendon may be considerably light, but Ryan isn’t feeling strong enough to carry him after all that.

  
“Sweetheart, I'll be right back. Don't worry about getting up, or anything,” Ryan tells him. Brendon sighs, and his eyes fall closed. Ryan takes his hand, kissing a knuckle before walking away.

  
He doesn't want to leave Brendon alone for long, wouldn't dream of it. He needs to be there for him. Rushing, he takes the shortest shower he could manage, just to freshen up. In warm water, he soaks a washcloth for Brendon, and brings it back to him.

  
Brendon's eyelids are drooping, and a lethargic smile comes to his face when he sees Ryan. “Hi, Brendon,” Ryan greets him.

  
“Hi,” Brendon mouths back, and Ryan realizes Brendon's coming down.

  
Ryan sits on the edge of the bed, and grasps one of Brendon's legs. There's come slowly dripping down the backs of his thighs, and Ryan deliberately wipes it up, making sure to avoid any bruises he has. “You did so good tonight, my love,” Ryan says. “Such a good boy.” Ryan's finished with his legs, and stands.

  
“I know you're exhausted—” Ryan begins.

  
“—totally beat,” Brendon cracks with a grin.

  
Ryan giggles. “My fault. But turn over for me, baby boy, we’re almost done.”

  
Brendon does so without complaint, revealing the come smeared on his stomach, and the red bow around his collar. Although the washcloth is warm, Brendon is shivering by the time Ryan’s done cleaning him up. Ryan kisses his lips once more. “Are you cold, B? Let’s get you in some clothes.”

  
Brendon nods. “Don't leave me alone,” he says blatantly.

  
“Okay. Can you walk, or do you need me to . . .”

  
“Help me up?” Brendon requests.

  
Ryan unhooks the leash from Brendon's collar, first and foremost, laying it on the bed. He inches an arm under Brendon's back, and cradles his head to sit him up. Brendon's leaning all his weight into Ryan's arms, and Ryan can't help but laugh. “You're warm,” Brendon whispers.

  
“Then get closer to me, there.”

  
Brendon nestles his head into Ryan's shoulder, as Ryan practically lifts his whole body off the bed to get him to stand. Ryan wraps an arm around his waist, and takes a step. Brendon stumbles, but he manages to make it to their closet.

  
Wearing the collar around his neck and nothing else, Brendon does look gorgeous, Ryan thinks, and he procrastinates taking it off Brendon. Ryan does put on his most possessive front during their scenes, but some part of him always likes the idea of Brendon being completely and wholly his. He rarely shows it, but with the way Brendon's leaning into him, he thinks it wouldn't be too bad if he did.

  
On that note, he picks one of his own old and worn t-shirts out of their closet and helps Brendon into it. Ryan knows his own boxers won't fit quite right over Brendon's curvaceous hips, so he grants the boy with underwear that belongs to him. He holds onto Brendon for him to have enough balance to step into them, and that's that.

  
As they're about to crawl in bed together, Ryan reaches to loosen the collar around Brendon's neck. However, he pulls his head away, and an uncomposed, involuntary whine escapes him. Ryan raises a questioning eyebrow, and his stomach drops, because, Brendon just pulled away from his touch, and that is so unlike him. “Can I leave it on?” Brendon asks, his voice timid, and Ryan relaxes.

  
“Of course, beautiful.”

  
Ryan picks up the leash on the bed and tosses it to the ground, then pulls the covers back. He tucks Brendon in, making sure there were enough blankets for him to be warm enough. Sure, he spoils Brendon, but Brendon loves being doted upon, and Ryan wouldn't deny him anything. “I do love belonging to you,” Brendon says, peering up at Ryan.

  
Brendon definitely isn't thinking straight, based off that statement, Ryan concludes. “Still out there?” He asks, making a vague gesture.

  
“So high,” Brendon answers.

  
He climbs in bed beside Brendon, and makes haste of pulling Brendon into his arms. Brendon gets as close as possible, and Ryan tightens his hold around Brendon's waist, his back to his chest. Ryan kisses behind Brendon's ear, and says, “You're so good, so perfect.”

  
“I'm not perfect. I came without permission,” Brendon says, and he's serious, his voice is shameful.

  
“No, no, sweetheart, it's okay, it's okay. I wanted you to. And you can't help it, not when you're like that.”

  
“You're not mad?”

  
“No, babe. I'm proud of you. You took it so well, you're my good boy. I love you.”

  
“I love you too.”

  
“You mean the world to me.” Brendon seems to melt at the praise, and Ryan leans over to kiss Brendon's lips again. Ryan still catches peppermint on his tongue, and it makes him smile. “You're the best thing I got for Christmas,” Ryan says.

  
Brendon perks up at the mention of it being Christmas. “Thank you for my toys,” he says, with a giggle.

  
“Thought you'd like it, my love, but wait till you see what's under the tree for you, for us . . .”


End file.
